What Am I?
by jadedbluerose
Summary: Every so often in life you come across something that makes you stop and think. Oneshot, rated T for safety.


What Am I?

Every so often in life you come across something that makes you stop and think.

For me that happened today.

It started out as an alright day. Sure I came downstairs to find Mom testing out the latest ghost hunting weapon, something to electrocute them while it catches them in a thimble size container. But I was lucky enough to get out of the house without setting it off, so no harm done.

For the first time in a long time I actually got to school before the bell. Mr Lancer looked bemused that I was actually in class on time and in good cheer. He was teaching us about Romeo and Juliet. He actually asked Sam and I to read Act three scene three, and I couldn't help but blush when Sam smiled at me.

Sam, my best friend since forever; well, her and Tucker. The two of them have always been there for me. Whenever I need them. Through thick and thin.

But it's Sam who inspires me to keep going whenever I'm about to give in. Deep down I know I could never live without her in my life, cheering me on, and giving me a good kick to get back on track. Hey, there's no arguing with a smart girl in knee high combat boots.

Lucky for me Dash Baxter wasn't in school today so I didn't even have to worry about dodging him to escape being shoved in a locker.

All in all it was a pretty perfect day.

That is right up until seventh period.

We'd all just gone back inside after lunch when I felt it. The cold shiver running up my spine as icy crystals laced the sides of my throat. Cold air dragged its way past my lips, escaping in a soft blue mist to tell me that a ghost was near.

A minute later and I was in a supply closet as I let the cold embrace of death consume me, shifting my human flesh into pure energy as I shifted into my ghost side.

Another minute passed as I floated above the school looking for the ghost. it didn't take long to find him.

Skulker faded into visibility, once more announcing that my pelt would rest at the foot of his bed. Or was it that my head would sit above his fire? He's done this so many times that I'm pretty much immune to his threats. Perhaps that's why it happened. I've grown too complacent. Grown too confident in my own abilities.

We wrestled in the air for a few minutes, neither making much progress when the metallic ghost pulled out a new weapon. A machete knife. It glowed an unnatural green as the ectoplasmic blade swung through the air.

There was so little time. I raised a shield but the blade cut right through; plunging into the air I had sought to keep safe.

Then there was agony. Every nerve in my right arm screamed in torture. An icy burn of sharp pain shot through my whole being and I froze in stunned silence.

My white gloved hand was falling down towards the earth as an eerie trail of green and red poured behind it.

Skulker grinned; malignant menace poured from his menacing green eyes as he caught my hand with a net. Then he was gone, vanishing in the air and taking my hand with him.

I hung in the sky shocked, staring at the oozing stub where my hand had been.

There was a cry from below as the crowd of teenagers and reporters broke themselves from their stunned silence. The teenagers starting yelling, but I could barely hear them.

In the crowd I picked up the glitter of Sam's amethyst eyes, filled with fear and tearful sympathy. But I couldn't face her now.

I flew off invisibly to the roof of the ops-centre at home. The pain was already gone, there was just a strange empty feeling as I tried to close a hand that was no longer there.

Idly I wondered what I was going to do. How does anyone explain how a kid has their hand amputated without being seen by a physician? I was terrified. I didn't want this to be real. It couldn't be real. I was going to open my eyes and find that it had all been a nightmare.

But when I looked again it was still gone, a stump ending in a clean slice where my hand used to sit. I sat there on the roof in my ghost form. In my cold, dead form terrified.

What would happen when I turned back to human? Would I die from blood loss as the wound opened to pour blood as my heart pushed it through my veins? Would there just be a fleshy stub at the end of my arm? What would I tell Sam? My parents? How could I explain this to the school? Oh, I'm sorry Mr Lancer, I can't take your test, see I have no hand. What was I going to do?

Eventually my energy ran out. I felt a warm ring surge through me as my ghost half petered out. I felt the warm breath in my lungs, drawing in the evening air as the sun set behind me. I felt the steady thumping as my heart started pushing blood through my human veins. I felt the rush that is brought about by simply being alive; warm and breathing and _alive_.

Fearfully I opened my eyes, ready for the worst.

For the second time that day I froze, staring transfixed at my right arm.

There it was, pale in the light. Four fingers, one thumb and two brown freckles. My hand. Perfectly whole. Perfectly _there_, as if nothing ever happened.

For half an hour I sat there, testing each muscle and observing the shifting sinews. Never before had I paid so much attention to one appendage, but it was there. I never realised how much I needed it until it was gone.

Carefully I shifted back into my ghost half. There it was, enclosed in a silver-white glove, glowing brighter than the rising moon. Cold and dead and yet wonderfully alive. _There._

I sat in silence transfixed. I still had my right hand.

But that raised a deeper question. How was it still there. I'd watched it fall away. Felt as the nerves in my arm screamed in protest at its absence. Yet here it was.

What am I?

A human hand doesn't magically grow back when it has been cut off. I knew my biology worked different to a normal human's. I'd watched as cuts that should take weeks to heal knitted themselves together in a matter of minutes. I'd gone to sleep with a broken leg to only have a slight limp in the morning.

But this was the worst.

Never before had my human half felt so dirty, so tainted.

Never before had I felt so inhuman.

Never before had I felt so much like a ghost.

So what exactly am I?

Am I human? Am I a ghost?

Or am I some weird mix halfway in between?

I heard a soft rustling as the hatch of the roof opened.  
>I didn't even have to look as I felt the warm presence of Sam as she came to sit beside me. The two of us sat quietly for a while, staring at the rising moon.<p>

She didn't stay long, but it was long enough.  
>Sam reminded me that it doesn't matter who you are, it's what you do with what you're given. It's having the strength to continue fighting.<p>

What am I?

I am the human Danny Fenton. The kid who struggles through schools. Who laughs along with his friends. Who deeply loves his family and would do anything for them.

I am the ghost Phantom. The specter who battles back all the malevolent ghosts bent on wreaking havoc in the human world. Who protects everyone who needs it.

I am Danny, the half-ghost, half-human. Who walks the road between the two. Who can choose when to live and when to be dead. Who is weighed down by the responsibilities of the world and embraces them. Who uses the powers hard earned in death to protect and help the downtrodden human and ghost alike.

What am I?

I am me, the Halfa. The one person who can stand up against the ghosts and yet completely empathise with them. The balance between two conflicting worlds and the uniting force for both. Unified by contradictions; warmth and cold, black and white, living and dead.

What am I?

I am the dead human.

I am the living ghost.

I am the true Halfa.

I am the one and only Danny Phantom.

And I am here to be the symbol this world needs.


End file.
